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Lambert is used to contracts going completely tits up. He's a witcher, which means Destiny is out to get him at every opportunity anyhow, and between the contracts that are supposed to be hunting easy monsters and end up being much more dangerous creatures, the villagers who like playing nasty pranks like putting rat poison in a witcher's porridge, and the general misery of wandering about the Continent in all weathers often while mildly-to-moderately injured, well, at this point he just assumes life is going to screw him over and plans accordingly.
Which, given that Lambert is a paranoid bastard, does often mean that he is prepared for the disasters and has a way to mitigate, if not entirely alleviate, whatever crisis ensues.
Often. Not always.
Unfortunately, today is one of the days he hasn't managed to plan for all eventualities.
In fairness to him, he did plan for the barghests. He and Aiden know how to handle barghests. They're not fun to fight, no - they're smart, they work together, and their jaws lock when they bite, so even killing them doesn't get the damn teeth to let go - but with care and good scouting, it's perfectly possible for a pair of pretty damn talented witchers to deal with a pack of barghests without getting maimed or killed.
Usually. Because usually, barghests don't fucking breathe fire.
If Lambert survives this and ever gets his hands on whichever fuckwit of a mage modified these barghests to be even more deadly than they usually are, he's going to take a page out of the barghests' book and burn the asshole alive. See how he likes it.
He and Aiden have taken refuge in an old, mostly ruined tower; it still had stairs to the second floor when they reached it, but had is the important word in that sentence, because the stair-remnants are currently smoldering baulks of charcoal. The floor is so hot that Lambert's feet are feeling burnt through the soles of his boots. The roof was gone when they got here; the walls have crumbled unevenly, and there's no third floor to retreat to. The ground floor is full of barghests.
"This is not entirely ideal," Aiden says mildly, from where he's perched on the highest point of the crumbling wall, wrapping his ankle tightly; it's either sprained or broken, Lambert's not sure which. Aiden looks far too precarious up there, but it's arguably safer than staying on the floor…at least for now.
"This is a fucking mine-collapse of an unsatisfactory situation," Lambert growls back from where he's peering down through the jagged hole in the floor at the pack of barghests below. He and Aiden have made some progress: there are now only eight of the damned things, instead of a baker's dozen.
Unfortunately, the barghests are taking shifts in breathing fire up towards the second floor and doing laps around the outside of the tower, clearly hoping to either cook the witchers alive or drive them to leap to the ground where they can be scorched and savaged. And Aiden's crossbow is a shattered heap of splinters somewhere out in the woods, while Lambert had to drop his entire bandolier of bombs before the damn things went off. There's a new crater in the forest, and several smoldering trees; Aiden got trapped under a tree and had to wrench himself free, which is how his ankle got hurt. Lambert's entire back is one enormous bruise, and he's pretty sure he has at least three cracked ribs; the explosion knocked him into a boulder, and he came off worse than the rock did.
"Any ideas?" Aiden asks, tying off the bandage around his ankle and pulling his boot back on. "At the moment I'm more inclined to try to get past the patrollers than the ones in the tower."
"Same," Lambert agrees. The barghests are sending out patrols of three, leaving five in the tower's first floor. "Lemme think a minute."
The tools they have available are their swords and Aiden's knives - useful if they can get close enough without being fried - their Signs, and the tower itself. Igni's no use, since the damn things are fireproof. Aard and Yrden maybe have potential. Quen has proven its worth half a dozen times now, but holding it for longer than a few seconds is close to impossible. Axii is only effective very briefly, and only on one being at a time; at best, he and Aiden could distract two barghests.
Lambert dances from foot to foot as the barghests down below breathe another burst of fire up at them, and feels the floor tremble beneath his weight as the beam holding it up weaken further.
As the beams weaken.
"Got an idea," he says, scrambling up onto the broken wall next to Aiden. "Probably gonna kill us too, but it's the best I got."
"Probably is better than definitely," Aiden says, grinning viciously. "Lay it out for me, my Lam."
"How hard d'you think you can cast Aard?"
Aiden laughs aloud. "Even without bombs you've a penchant for destruction," he says gleefully. "On three?"
"On three," Lambert agrees, and aims his hand at the floor. Chances are this will knock the wall they're sitting on over, too, and they'll end up in a heap of broken stone, but hell, it's better than being roasted alive.
"One thing first," Aiden says, and grabs Lambert's pauldron, hauling him close. Lambert blinks at the Cat in astonishment, their faces a scant inch apart. Aiden meets his eyes for a long, long moment, and then kisses him hard.
After a moment's astonishment, Lambert kisses back. Aiden's lips are chapped and his tongue flickers insistently against Lambert's own, and for a moment Lambert forgets that they're perched on a crumbling wall above a pack of murderous hellhounds, lost in the pleasure of the kiss.
"On three," Aiden breathes against his lips as they part.
"One," Lambert agrees, blinking himself back to coherency. "Two. Three."
Their first combined blast of Aard makes the floor tremble but nothing more. The second causes a number of worrisome creaking noises. The third cracks every bit of mortar remaining between the stones.
The fourth sends fragments pattering down on the barghests below, and they reply with a coordinated blast of fire that makes Lambert feel like he's standing in front of an open kiln. He curses; Aiden hisses under his breath.
"One more, my Lam," he says, and Lambert puts every scrap of Chaos he has into the final casting.
Their Aards hit the floor like a divine hammer, and there's a single frozen moment before the whole floor just crumbles, blocks of stone half the size of Lambert's torso raining down on the barghests in a sudden avalanche. The wall Lambert and Aiden are standing on trembles, then wavers, and Lambert grabs Aiden and throws both of their weight backwards, away from the heap of stones and dying barghests.
He reaches deep, far deeper than he ever has before, and casts Quen as the wall topples. It feels like he's tearing the Chaos out of his own blood, but as the world goes dark around him he sees the golden bubble blooming into place around them both.
He wakes up with an aching head to find that he's lying beside a stream. His armor is stacked beside him, and so is Aiden's; Aiden himself is standing in the stream, stark naked, scrubbing himself down. Lambert admires the view for a moment, as surreptitiously as he can, and then remembers that kiss and decides maybe he doesn't have to only look at Aiden out of the corner of his eye anymore. He turns his head and gives the Cat an appreciative once-over.
Aiden grins down at him. "Awake again, my Lam? I'm going to give you credit for managing to bring the wall down on the other three barghests. All I had to do was go through and give the death-blows to the damn things."
"I didn't do that on purpose," Lambert points out.
Aiden grins. "Take the compliment," he suggests, and bends down to kiss Lambert gently and thoroughly. "Also, well done not dying."
Lambert grins. Alright, this contract absolutely went completely tits up, but this time, at least, Destiny has given him some compensation for the clusterfuck.
He'll fucking well take it.